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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132012">What am I if not your equal?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune'>therune</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Strength</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:27:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rome draws blood during a sparring match and can't forgive himself. Germania is hurt in other ways than just the physical, yet Rome doesn't see the bigger picture.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Germania/Rome (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Germania didn't make a sound, but he didn't need to, Rome had felt it. They'd been sparring, swords clashing but his sword had slipped, slicing Germania's leg. </p>
<p>Immediately, he let go of his weapon, it clattered to the ground. <br/>“Germania!”<br/>Blood was already beginning to soak through the white tunic he wore. </p>
<p>“It's nothing,” Germania countered, but Rome wasn't interested in letting go. </p>
<p>“It isn't nothing. There's blood!”<br/>Indeed, it was running down in thin rivulets down Germania's knee. While Germania looked unimpressed, Rome couldn't withhold his emotions. <br/>“Let me take care of that,” he urged and when his friend still didn't move, stubborn ass that he was, Rome had enough. Before Germania could stop him (but after he managed to complain) he had hoisted him up by his thighs and carried him over a few steps to the low wall surrounding the courtyard. </p>
<p>There was the fresh water they had intended to drink and cloth meant for wipe away their sweat. They would have to do. </p>
<p>He shoved the tunic up above the wound and poured the water over it to clear away the blood. Then he prodded it gently to assess the damage. It was a single cut above his knee, half way up his thigh. As gently as he could, he cleaned it. While he worked, Germania remained silent and Rome grew concerned. </p>
<p>“I didn't meant to hurt you, you know that, right?” Rome tenderly reminded him. He'd been wild in his youth (ferocious, some might say), but he mellowed with age. And he'd never try to hurt Germania. (Sparring and the occasional scuffle surely didn't count.)</p>
<p>“I know that. Of course I know that,” Germania scoffed, as if the thought that Rome would be able to hurt him if he wanted to was ridiculous. Or...because the thought that Rome would want to hurt him intentionally was equally laughable. Rome couldn't tell and focused on cleaning the wound. With all the blood wiped away now, it was visible that it wasn't  particularly deep , just in an awkward place. And being who they were, it would heal quickly. Germania was silent and Rome wondered if it hurt more than he let on and that was why didn't say much. But he'd seen Germania get hurt far worse and shrug those wounds off as if they were annoying flies. So, if the pain wasn't the problem, what was? Something was bothering his friend. </p>
<p>“But you're mad,” Rome prodded. Satisfied with his care, he took a clean cloth and began to wrap it around Germania's thigh, prompting him to lift his leg and put it down again when the cloth had been wrapped around his leg twice. He finished with a knot and took care not to pull it too tightly, watching Germania's face with eagle eyes for signs of discomfort. Something was there, in the line of his brows and in his eyes, but it didn't look like any pain Rome knew. </p>
<p>“Is it because I beat you?” he asked, “I was bound to win some. It's not like that was the first time you ever lost.” </p>
<p>Rome replayed the fight in his mind, trying to grasp a detail he'd not noticed before. Everything seemed as usual, truly everything, until they had clashed. With a loud clang their swords met. Germania had held his sword sideways, parallel to the ground, the muscles in his arms bunching with the effort. He had caught Rome's sword in a downward swing. Rome had grinned, the stalemate had lasted for only a couple of seconds and then the sword had slipped. And now Rome realized that it hadn't been <i>his</i> sword that had slipped in the first place. It had been Germania's. Unable to hold it up for longer, his grip had loosened and the sword slipped downwards and Rome's had continued on it's way, angle changed enough by their clash to cut sideways into his leg. </p>
<p>Germania had lost. Well and truly lost. Trying not to draw attention to himself, Rome inspected his hands. They looked the same as ever, big strong and especially tan against the white of the bandage and Germania's skin. Germania never took to the sun as he did. Rome was a bronze god after a few days in the sun whereas Germania gained a smidgen of color at best. Were these the hands that hurt his friend? Unconsciously, he rested them on the bandage, willing to take back the wound. </p>
<p>“It's because you're stronger than me,” Germania admitted quietly. Rome blinked and then tried to look him into the eyes, but Germania wouldn't meet his, staring off to the side. Rome had never known his friend to shy away from anything. <br/>“I've known for a long time that you are and will only continue to grow stronger. I can train as long as I like and never come close.”</p>
<p>Rome was silent and let him speak. Of course he'd known that he had more raw power than Germania, but Germania's iron discipline and skill still meant he won most of their fights. But maybe Germania had been too good a fighter, too good a partner because Rome had learned: how to strike, when to strike, when not to strike... He wouldn't go as far as calling them student and teacher, but Germania had a way of fighting Rome had always admired. </p>
<p>“You're an empire, Rome, and I'm not. It's not in my nature. I am what I will be and that is all there is.” Poetry didn't suit his friend and it seemed like Germania had rehearsed this speech before. </p>
<p>“But I like who you are,” Rome replied without thinking and Germania looked like he wanted to smile, but bit his lip, not allowing himself the gesture. <br/>“Let me gather my thoughts,” he pleaded and Germania nodded. Too often had he ruined things by speaking without consulting his brain first. </p>
<p>Was Germania sad because Rome had become stronger than him? Was he mad because Rome not only beat him but marked his victory in blood as well? Was he jealous? No, not jealous, Germania had made it clear on several occasions that he didn't want to become like Rome. And it wasn't about the wound itself, they'd gotten worse scrapes from each other and for far more mundane reasons. So it was the sadness? Being afraid that....they'd only grow further apart? That this was the beginning of the end? That... Rome had no need of a bodyguard when he was the better fighter which he'd become (if he hadn't already) due to his strength? </p>
<p>“Are you sad because of what would happen to you?” Rome asked softly. </p>
<p>Instead of answering right away ( a trait Rome had found boring but learned to appreciate), Germania picked up his left hand in both of his. Rome suddenly became aware of their lack of distance. It was as if Germania didn't even register in his personal space as someone else. Rome would have been fine with them glued together all day and all night, sharing air and food and a bed. It was always Germania who resisted and insisted on his independence. He pressed Rome's hand to his, palm to palm, fingers to fingers. Their size was almost the same, Germania's finger paler, a bit thinner and far less hairy. This way, Rome could feel the callouses on both their hands. We're both fighters, he thought. </p>
<p>“What am I if not your equal?” Germania said, musing, “I was supposed to be your bodyguard but you don't need me.”</p>
<p>“I do need you,” Rome said quickly, unthinking. <br/>“It's not about usefulness. You're not my servant, never have been. You barely listen to anything I say anyway,” he deflected, but shook his head as if to clear away the childish thoughts and he grew serious.<br/>“Let me explain it better: You are who you always have been: my best friend. You came when I asked and helped me. Bodyguard is just a title but we are beyond those, aren't we? You didn't just protect me and turned me into a better fighter, you turned me into a better person. I am who I am because of you. My strength is your strength.”</p>
<p>Germania looked up below his lashes. </p>
<p>“Then the question shouldn't be who you are but who I am,” Rome said. <br/>The words had been on his tongue for years, carelessly spilled at times, but with the same feeling behind them. Germania had never accepted. For the longest time Rome hadn't known why – it was clear that Germania liked him, he wouldn't have stuck around if he truly hated Rome. He was fiercely independent and no one could make him do anything he didn't like. Still, he had stayed at Rome's side. He'd wanted to be here. </p>
<p>“I'm yours. I have been since we were children and I will be as long as you will have me,” he stated plainly, trying to lay the whole weight of his feelings, of their past into his vow. Rome could only pray Germania heard him, really heard him. </p>
<p>“I didn't turn you into a better person,” Germania countered, and Rome wanted to despair. Couldn't he respond to what he had just said? He'd lain his heart bare and Germania – blunt as ever – contradicted him any chance he got. </p>
<p>“You turned yourself into a better person,” Germania continued and squeezed Rome's hand gently. Rome's fingers flexed involuntarily. “Sometimes I look at you and can hardly believe how far you've come. At some point, the irresponsible childish man turned into a mature, responsible leader. I am glad I got to see it,” he almost whispered. </p>
<p>Slowly Rome raised his hand, Germania's fingers still clasped around it, and pressed a brief kiss to his knuckles. </p>
<p>“For you.”</p>
<p>“For yourself.”</p>
<p>“For us,” Rome conceded.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Strength</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So...you like my strength then?” Rome asked, mischief creeping into his voice. It felt good and even better when Germania blushed. </p>
<p>“Not like that,” Germania replied, but Rome wouldn't have been Rome hadn't he pushed further. </p>
<p>“Then how? You liked it when I carried you,” he teased. It was far from the first time he'd attempted that. Germania had never been able to stop him (interrupt him with a swift kick during or after, yes) and Rome had always delighted in being able to show off his strength. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Germania confessed.</p>
<p>How did that work? <br/>Germania had never liked it before. 'Mindless brute', and 'egotist' he'd called Rome. But it had been fun to rile up Germania and well worth the occasional punch. What had been different today? Rome thought with such an intensity it wouldn't have surprised him if Germania could hear what he was thinking of. </p>
<p>Not the action, but the motivation. Worry had made him carry him, the fastest way to get to safety. That was why he'd done it. Not for himself, but for Germania's sake. And wasn't that all the difference?</p>
<p>“You liked it when I took care of you,” Rome concluded and Germania squeezed his hand in confirmation. It all sounded plausible. Germania was a warrior. <br/>All he had ever done was fight and protect people, but when had Germania been protected for the last time? Must have been forever ago. </p>
<p>“I've... I'm the strong one. I've always had to be the strong one. What if...?” he asked quietly. </p>
<p>Rome considered his answer carefully, He flexed his fingers in Germania's hand and then laced them together with his. <br/>“I can protect you. It's not that you truly need me to, I know, but I'd like to. I can be strong for you.”<br/>He laid the fingers of his right hand under Germania's chin and gently turned his face to his own. For a long moment he looked into his green eyes, saw the questions, the uncertainty, but also the faint blush of pink on his cheeks almost overshadowing the few fine freckles there and on the bridge of his nose. <br/>“Let me be there for you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cloth whispered against the bandage as Rome tugged the tunic back down to Germania's knees. His fingers were reluctant to let go of the hem and so they lingered until they wandered to rest gently on the skin underneath. <br/>Rome stepped closer between Germania's legs. The inch or two he gained from that forced Germania to look up. They were nearly the same height but not right now. Something in his gut stirred pleasantly at this development. The sentiment seemed mirrored in Germania who shivered, blushed and pulled Rome closer still. His hands ended up in Rome's tunic, first over his beating heart and then they rested on his stomach. </p>
<p>Rome was filled with restless energy, bubbling underneath his surface but without direction. He wanted but could not voice or even think of a direct action. He wanted everything at once and torn between decisions was left with his desires. Suddenly he was a teenager again, faced with endless possibilities of love and not knowing what to try first. But he was a teenager no more and Germania deserved him at his best. And that was the problem, in a way. </p>
<p>They'd known each other for eons, been friends since their first (well, more third) meeting and now it was different. Everything had changed. </p>
<p>Rome knew his past hadn't been too kind to love. Oh, he had loved fiercely, both Egypt and Greece. But while infatuation, romance, love at first sight  were great for beginning a relationship, they couldn't sustain one alone. That had been a lesson learned with sacrifice and heartbreak. If love was all you needed, he would have never had a problem. But with Germania it hadn't worked liked that. <br/>Yes, there was attraction (was there ever attraction), want and love, but also knowledge. Germania liked to play up the role of the mysterious, aloof barbarian, but Rome <i>knew</i> him. They'd fought against each other, with each other and they'd been friends. That was how Rome came to know and accept it – friendship. </p>
<p>Had he wanted more? In a way, yes and no at the same time. If he'd known before that Germania did reciprocate, he'd said yes in a heartbeat or perhaps even less. But it had been fine for all of these years and if friends was all they ever were going to be, he'd be fine with that, too. He couldn't imagine a life without Germania at his side, whichever role that might take. </p>
<p>That was why he hesitated. Their roles had been established by years of bickering, violence, respect and admiration. This balance was now upset and Rome feared plunging into an abyss, of missing a step in this new dance, upsetting Germania. Germania who bared his heart, who wanted him and gone the first step. Rome needed (wanted) to follow, but he couldn't see the road. </p>
<p>“May I?,“ he asked and bent down. Gently, he cradled Germania's face in his right palm. Germania didn't say anything, but he answered all the same by tugging (rather forcefully) on Rome's tunic to bring him closer, to eliminate the distance between them. Their first kiss was a little mis-matched, Rome's lips first brushed over Germania's cheek before finding his. It was a chaste, brief kiss, but it made Rome's knees buckle and he used his other hand to steady himself. </p>
<p>Germania drew back, but circled his arms around Rome's neck, as if to show him that he didn't really want him to leave. <br/>“You should see your face,“ he smirked and it was as if a giant had punched Rome in his stomach. That was how he had looked the first time they'd met. A childish insult and the cheeky grin. This was a moment Rome wanted to keep. Wanted to pour it in a bottle like a fine wine and be reminded of summer every time he took a sip. </p>
<p>Maybe things wouldn't be as different as he'd thought. They were still who they were. </p>
<p>“You look lovely,“ he countered and instead of the indignant scowl he normally received, he was met with a fine blush. <br/>He was looking forward to finding out who they could become.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>headcanon: <br/>Germania is absolutely smitten with an in-charge, responsible Rome. Basically, he's into mature men (well, age doesn't really work with them, more the attitude) and Rome had/has to do a lot of growing up before he became that. <br/>He's also ridiculously into Rome's strength but feels guilty because he defined himself as 'the strong one' and is unsure of what to do once Rome takes over that role. </p>
<p>You should check out sab/sabrow on tumblr/pixiv because their R/G work is divine!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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